by Krista Wolf
Jocelyn pursed her lips approvingly. She took another sip of her latte.
“And you haven’t even run into him at the office?”
“Nope. Remember, he works three floors above me. And it’s not like I saw him a lot to begin with.”
That part was a flat-out lie, and Jocelyn knew it. I saw Malcolm all the time, as much at work as outside the office. She didn’t call me out on it, though. It was the mark of a good friend.
“Good for you, Holly,” she smiled, raising her mug. Very carefully, I clinked mine against it. “I’m proud of you.”
In truth I was proud of myself. I’d actually gone out of my way to avoid my ex, taking a different bank of elevators and avoiding the exit near the parking garage. Hell, it wasn’t like I had a car to park there anymore, anyway.
A sadness crept over me at that last thought. I really missed my little hatchback.
“So what do you think about Sunday?” I asked. “About Lincoln’s… invite?”
“Sure sounds like a date to me,” Jocelyn grinned.
“Really?”
My best friend in all of Manhattan swept a stray blonde lock over one ear. “Tell me again how he asked you.”
I relayed the story one more time. The story about how Lincoln Wallace, my first and oldest personal shopping client, had asked to meet up with me on Sunday.
“Shopping and lunch?” Jocelyn repeated thoughtfully. “Well has he ever asked you to lunch before?”
“He’s never even asked to go shopping before,” I said. “Come to think of it, he barely makes suggestions. He’s always just handed me his credit card and left everything to me.”
That part was true, and it was also what I loved most about my little side business. Being a personal shopper was like getting paid to have fun. You went shopping with someone else’s money, and you got to buy things you wouldn’t normally buy yourself.
“How’d you meet him again, anyway?”
“I took the business over from a woman I worked with,” I said, “back when I first came to town. She was moving away and left me about a dozen clients. Lincoln Wallace was the best of them.”
“You mean he pays the best,” Jocelyn added shrewdly.
I sipped off the last of my foam. “Oh yeah. He’s the CEO of his own advertising firm. And he’s got four sisters and plenty of nieces and nephews. Not to mention two adorable parents back in Maine… all of whom he showers with gifts.”
Jocelyn sighed wistfully. “Rich. Successful. Loves his family…” She squinted back at me. “And you said he was handsome, too?”
God, is he ever.
“Tall, dark and gorgeous,” I nodded.
Jocelyn stared back at me enviously. “Well shit, Holly! If he’s not trying to take you out, mind if I have a crack at him?”
I laughed, but my laughter came out nervous. Suddenly there was a little knot in my stomach.
Jealousy? The little voice in my head taunted. Really, Holly?
A huge part of me did want him to be asking me out. If for no other reason than to feel wanted again — to feel desired in ways I hadn’t felt in almost two years. The fact that it was someone like Lincoln Wallace only made it ten times better.
But if he wasn’t asking me out…
“Holly? Earth to Holly?”
I snapped back, just in time to avoid spilling my coffee all over my own leg. It sloshed dangerously close to the lip of the mug, causing me to overcompensate and almost drop it entirely.
“Easy,” Jocelyn chuckled, laying her hands over mine. “He’s all yours, honey. I was only kidding.”
She handed me a napkin, which I accepted gratefully. At the rate things were going, I might need a towel.
“And to answer your question, yes,” she added, “I do think he’s asking you out. Just look at yourself. You’re beautiful and amazing, and now you’re single to boot. He’d be a fool not to take a crack at you.”
I blushed, even though it was just the two of us. “Thanks.”
When it came to friends, Jocelyn was one of the better ones. Cute, funny, level-headed… and tough. New York tough. The kind of tough I learned all about when I moved out here two years ago, from my sheltered little town in Southern Texas.
“Treat it like a date,” Jocelyn advised. “You haven’t had one in a really long time. A good one, anyway.”
“You don’t think that would be unprofessional?”
“Do you really care?” Jocelyn smirked.
I thought about it for a second. “I care about losing him as a client.”
She waved me away dismissively with one hand. “Shop with him. Flirt with him. Enjoy yourself for a change. If he flirts back, you know the drill. And if not?” She shrugged. “He’s gay.”
I laughed so hard I almost spit my coffee. “He’s not gay!”
Jocelyn threw me her most seductive wink. “Then go have fun with him.”
Three
HOLLY
“C’mon, three more reps!”
I pushed hard, through the pain, feeling the burn in my thighs as the platform above me moved smoothly up and down. I always loved the leg press machine. The sheer amount of weight on each side made you feel like you could put up really big numbers.
“Two more…”
Except today, when I was doing it for the first time in months.
“Another two…”
“Hey!” I grunted. “You said that last rep!”
“Yeah, well you half-assed that one,” Donovan barked. “I don’t accept half-reps. If you followed through you’d be done by now.”
I reached down into my core and pushed, shoving the weights away and finishing out my set. My perfectly-sculpted trainer engaged the locking clamp just as my legs went limp.
“There you go,” he smirked back at me. “That wasn’t so bad now, was it?”
I gave Donovan my dirtiest playful look. “No. It was absolutely perfect.”
“Perfection is when I can bounce a quarter off your ass,” he shot back. His look went stern. “But you already know what I’m going to say next, don’t you?”
“Yeah yeah,” I acknowledged. “It wouldn’t hurt this bad if I came on a regular basis.”
He nodded as he threw me my towel. “Damn straight.”
I mopped my forehead as I looked Donovan up and down. As always he was flawless, from his square jaw and handsomely stubbled chin right down to his powerful biceps and rock-hard abs.
Jesus, did his arms get bigger?
It was the first time I’d actually seen him since my breakup. The first time I could really drink him in without feeling guilty, as if I were doing something wrong. Our playful banter was something I looked forward to during our sessions. It was cute and funny, and it also kept me in line.
“Fitness is like a relationship,” he finally winked. “You can’t cheat and expect it to work.”
In reality I wasn’t cheating. I’d been coming the last few weeks, I’d just been avoiding him.
“You avoiding me, Holly?” he squinted.
Shit, it was like he read my mind.
“No sir.”
“Then where have you been?”
“Around.”
“Not around here,” he said. “At least not while I’m in the gym.”
“Why?” I flirted playfully. “You been looking for me?”
Damn. That was bold! It also wasn’t like me at all.
“I look out for everybody,” he smiled. “But you especially.”
It felt good, being able to flirt with him like this. To be free of Malcolm, who’d always thought my personal training sessions were a huge waste of money. “Why pay for something you can do yourself?” he’d argued often. “You’re already paying for a gym membership. Do you really need to throw extra money at someone to stand over you?”
With any other boyfriend, I would’ve chalked it up to jealousy. After all, Donovan was gorgeous. But with Malcolm… not so much. Like always, he was just being cheap.
“So when did it end?”
Donovan’s deep, velvety voice brought me back to reality. I stared up him curiously. “Huh?”
“Your relationship. You broke up with your boyfriend, didn’t you?”
My confusion was suddenly replaced with astonishment. I was stunned.
“How do you kno—”
“Because you didn’t talk about him at all,” Donovan interjected. “Not once, during our entire session. Usually you talk about him a lot, whenever I work you out.”
“I do?”
“Yes,” he smiled. “Nothing good, usually. He sounds… well…”
“Go on,” I smiled. “You can say it.”
Our eyes locked. My personal trainer hesitated, sizing me up a little before continuing. “He sounds like a cheap, controlling asshole.”
I laughed as I popped the top off my water bottle. “Bingo.”
“So you broke up with him?”
I wish. Suddenly I felt very foolish. As if the other people in my life could see something obvious I was totally missing. Missing for a very long time.
“Something like that.”
“So then tell me,” he said. “If you’re single, and you obviously have more time on your hands… why are you avoiding me?”
I stared back at him, feeling like a deer caught in a pair of steel blue headlights. There was no use lying to him. He’d know immediately, before I even finished constructing the sentence.
“I— I’m kinda strapped for cash,” I admitted humbly. “I don’t have a car anymore, so I’m saving up for one.”
His expression softened. I saw a welcome understanding in his eyes, as all judgment went out the window.
“I can’t afford too many sessions right now,” I said. “So I was thinking of cutting back my sessions. Maybe only coming—”
“You’re a personal shopper, right?”
I blinked. It was the last thing I expected him to say.
“Yes.”
“Well Christmas is coming,” said Donovan. “And I’ve got a ton of people to buy for. Friends, family, small gifts I usually give to clients…”
His voice had changed also. It was still beautiful, still wonderfully deep and sexy. But it was smoother now. Much more casual.
“How about we trade?” he smiled warmly. “Some personal training sessions for some personal shopping?”
He had the best smile. It brought mine out as well.
“You’d do that?”
“I’d actually love to do that!” he said excitedly. “Can’t tell the gym though.” Donovan rolled his beautiful eyes. “It’s against policy, or something equally stupid.”
“O—Okay,” I stammered.
All of a sudden my heart was racing. The idea of shopping for this incredible man, of getting to know him on a more personal level… there was something as intimidating as there was appealing about it.
“Gotta do something to get you in here,” Donovan laughed. “You need an excuse to show up more.”
I had to stop myself from turning about ten shades of red.
“Maybe I need a little more incentive?”
Holy shit! Did you really just say that?
“Then maybe I should just take you out on Saturday,” he countered smoothly. “How’s that for incentive?”
For a couple of seconds, time stopped. It was all I could do to keep my mouth from hanging open.
“I… I work on Saturday.”
Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!
“Do you work at night?”
I swallowed hard. “No...”
“Then I’ll take you out then. Unless you—”
“No no,” I jumped in. “I, uh… I mean Saturday night is good.”
Donovan set his hands on hips as I let out a relieved breath. I couldn’t believe how close I’d come to screwing things up.
“Then it’s settled. Dinner, you and me, Saturday night. We can discuss the terms of our trade, and—”
“BURKE!”
We both whirled in the direction of the voice. Behind the front desk, the gym’s owner — a man I knew only as Eddie — was staring daggers at us. Or more specifically, at Donovan.
“You’ve got an eight O’clock who’s been waiting five minutes already,” the owner growled.
“Yeah, we’ll she’s ten minutes early,” Donovan shot back.
Eddie’s return scowl told me everything I needed to know next. Donovan’s shoulders didn’t slump an inch. He remained defiant in the face of the big, red-headed man. They stared at each other for a long moment, neither one of them willing to look away.
“It’s okay,” I said, pulling Donovan’s attention back to me. “Go. Do your thing.”
“You’re my thing,” he said. “At least until I’m done with you.”
I smiled sweetly. “Well, are you done with me?”
“For now,” he grinned back.
My stomach felt like a butterfly zoo. I couldn’t believe this was happening. Donovan! Asking me out! And this time there was no doubt about it. This time it was most definitely going to be a date…
I couldn’t wait to tell Jocelyn.
“I’ll text you,” he said, before turning away. “But remember: Saturday night, you and me.”
I nodded mechanically. Like a schoolgirl being talked to by her biggest crush.
“Okay.”
“Be hungry,” he ordered. “But for right now? Treadmill. Thirty minutes. And I’d better see sweat when you leave.”
Damn. I was hoping he’d forgotten.
“I’ll do my best,” I said. “Been a few weeks though, so I’ll have to go slow.”
Donovan chuckled as he walked away. “No matter how slow you go, you’re still lapping everybody on the couch.”
Four
HOLLY
It was one of those rare glorious days, where the weather tells the current season to fuck off. In this case the skies were a pristine, cerulean blue. Totally unblemished by clouds, they were full of sunshine and warmth and promise.
Despite full winter being only days away, the temperatures had somehow climbed into the sixty-degree range. I had my ass firmly parked on a bench in Washington Square Park. Surrounded by sprawling green grass and skeletal trees that, just a few short weeks ago, had been exploding with fiery fall color.
Little things like that had astonished me the first year I was here. Simple things the locals always took for granted, like golden leaves and thousand-foot skyscrapers. Underground tunnel systems, flinging metal tubes packed wall-to-wall with people in every conceivable direction.
I had my face buried in the most boring of all possible literature: my CPA prep-book. The NYU campus loomed over my shoulder, a constant reminder that I had no less than three big finals coming up next week.
But that was okay. It was Friday. And Friday was my day.
Yes, it was the day I’d chosen to take all my classes. But once the morning was gone, I had the rest of the day all to myself. Friday was when I walked the streets of Manhattan, dipping randomly into shops and coffee houses and bookstores along the way. I went to museums. Saw plays on Broadway. Did anything I wanted, really, once I got my side work done and my studies out of the way.
Even then, shopping the City was like homework for my second job anyway. It gave me ideas on clever gifts to buy. I kept current on the latest fashions, just as eyeballing the millions of colorful people teeming the streets kept me up to date on the latest trends.
Most of all I loved the freedom. Malcolm worked late on Fridays — presumably so he could golf all weekend — so while we were dating I didn’t even have to be home at any particular time. School aside, Fridays were my day off from everything. Especially days like today, which I considered a rare, precious gift.
I flipped the page, trying to keep my focus on more of the mind-numbing jargon. Accounting wasn’t my first choice in life. It wasn’t like every little girl grew up hoping to stick a pencil in her ear and maintain spreadsheets on profit/loss statements.
No, I’d wanted to do other
things of course. Accounting was what happened when I took something I was already good at and added the pressing need to pay an exorbitant rent… even in a rent-controlled building.
Right now though, I didn’t want to think about any of those things. I just wanted to inhale the crisp, fresh air. Enjoy the feeling of being surrounded by grass and dirt again — if only for a little while — rather than tons of glass and rebar and concrete.
I’d been on the bench nearly an hour when I saw him looking; the cute guy on the other side of the clearing. He was leaning against a tree, eating an apple. Staring at me… but not creepily. Almost as if he were looking with a certain, permissible familiarity. Which—
“OOOF!”
My heart nearly leapt through my chest as the jogger fell sideways against me. He came seemingly from out of nowhere. His body bounced from the bench, his momentum barely slowing as he spun away from me with an apologetic grunt and continued to run.
“I—”
Only now he was running away with my bag.
“HEY!” I yelled. “HEY, STOP!”
I looked around, but I’d chosen one of the more private areas of the park. The only person nearby was my apple-eating colleague, who I noticed was already sprinting full speed in my direction.
“HE TOOK MY BAG!”
The cute guy nodded as he flew past, his dirty-blond hair flowing behind him as he sprinted in the direction of the jogger. He was moving unbelievably fast. Taking long, powerful strides with what looked like long, powerful legs.
Oh my God!
A half-eaten apple went spinning to the ground at my feet. I’d never been purse-snatched before! But of course I’d read about it. Hell, I’d seen it in a dozen movies, but none of them compared to the feeling of it actually happening.
I whirled, looking around helplessly. There was no one else. Only the jogger and his pursuer, who was slowly gaining on him.
What if he’s armed?
The thought sent shivers through me.
What if he has a knife, or a gun, or—
“UMMPH!”
At the edge of the clearing, both men were now on the ground. My would-be savior had made a last-minute jump, tackling the jogger around his ankles. It looked painful, the fall. The jogger landed hands first to protect his face, skidding along the cement path with a scream of pain.